Wish
by BabyChocoboAlchemist
Summary: "I've got you, little bird. I'm here." Christmas fic in which Gladiolus notices something's wrong with Prompto. Promptio with light brushes of Ignoct. Inspired by the Final Fantasy XIII-2 theme song, 'Wish'.


Author's Note: My first attempt at Gladiolus and Prompto shipping, with gentle hints of Ignoct. Until yesterday, I wasn't at all a fan of the Promptio pairing. Wasn't really even a Gladiolus fan. Nothing against the big galoot-just too busy being in love with a certain blonde, and seeing Ignis as an adorable little grumpy face. Upon discovering a few Promptio gems on here and archiveofourown, I became a believer. Not just in this particular ship, but in all of the ships you can create with the boys. They ALL work! Joy to the world! Which is why this story contains Promptio and Ignoct.

Mayoki's 'Duty of Care' fanfic inspired the Ignoct conflict seen here. I read that early in the morning, hiding with my phone under the covers, and it had my jaw drop. The Final Fantasy XIII-2 theme song 'Wish' inspired this story's title, as it came up on my YouTube playlist and I immediately recognized it as a song Prompto would dedicate to Gladiolus. Being inspired by others' masterpieces is a ton of fun.

Thank you for reading. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and the happiest of new years!

* * *

Gladiolus couldn't help but stare sometimes. Perhaps Noctis really _was_ rubbing off on him.

Gladiolus couldn't help but stare at Prompto sometimes. The gunslinger thought he slipped underneath the radar, evading the prince and the eagle they called Ignis, but Iris' brother left a crack in Prompto's footwork. Like moonlight slipping into a calm forest, assuring the earth it was forever safe, Noctis' trainer kept his eyes on the blonde photographer, as often as he could spare them. The second Ignis assured him the prince was safe, he turned his attention to the baby chocobo. The young man that fought so hard to keep himself hidden from all of Eos, all the while aching to let everything out.

Gladiolus couldn't help but stare at Prompto sometimes, transfixed by the glow that swept over his friend's face whenever they were anywhere near chocobos. Warmed by the fire that lit up Prompto's face, whenever he captured memories with his camera. There was something hypnotic about the effort their chocobo put into everything-even the little things, like going to market for the Princess Scientia. Carefully inserting their tent and sleeping bags into the Regalia. Even when he should've been resting, after a long trek through the cavern or a battle against one of Eos' titans, Prompto threw his hand in the air with a cheerful 'I'll help'. 'I'll do it'. And it was that effort, that drive, Gladiolus found impossible to ignore.

He certainly hadn't missed the cracks in Prompto's newest mask. The photographer's façade remained immaculate to the rest of the world, with the artisan inventing new, foolproof ways to hide even the biggest cracks from his brothers. But Gladiolus never missed a beat. Maybe it was his full-time job of keeping Iris out of trouble. Maybe Noctis worrying about Ignis really had rubbed off on him. Whatever the case was, Gladiolus found himself staring at Prompto sometimes. Wondering if their chocobo would reveal any more cracks to him. Wondering if Prompto would ever _let_ him fix even a single crack. Wondering why there were cracks in a pure, beautiful spirit that should've been left alone.

Those cracks sent Noctis' trainer into Prompto's kitchen, a silent, stealthy panther searching for a wounded cub. It was a night that should've been merry, with multi-colored fireflies and a proud pine tree gracing their gunner's apartment, but the cracks in Prompto's spirit put the night a thousand miles away from cheerful. He had spent the entire week exhausted, and not just from dodging rounds of questions. Every job they accepted that week tired him out, one even resulting in a fainting spell, which he of course brushed off-but the incident hadn't at all slipped out of Gladiolus' mind.

So it was into the kitchen he went, following the humming photographer into a world of cinnamon and vanilla. Prompto had just let his three brothers into his home, and while the team's big bear didn't have a handle on the entire story, he sensed it was a massive turning point. An eclipse erasing old fear, while darkening the unknown waters of the future. It was an idea born in the wake of a particularly tiresome battle, one that almost had a livid Noctis strangling Ignis because 'you're the Crown Prince, and it is an honor to protect this kingdom's future'. So to cool things off, why not hold a Christmas party? Perfect way to keep Noctis from killing Ignis, and after all, the chocobo loved them. Loved them beyond words. Besides, when it came to being the light of the group, Prompto couldn't be dethroned. So Christmas party it was.

Not at all emitting even a sliver of fear, Prompto was at the steering wheel (otherwise known as his oven), just about ready to take another batch of cookies out of the oven. What were they, sugar? Their sweet, gentle, merry fragrance tickled Gladiolus' younger self.

The way Noctis introduced Prompto flashed through Gladiolus' mind: _'hey, Gladio, guess what? I adopted a chocobo. Ignis said I could keep him. Name's Prompto'._

Every little thing the gunslinger did sparked a million thoughts, pathways, in Gladiolus' mind. When anyone else would have just enjoyed the scent of freshly baked treasures, he couldn't keep himself from staring at his friend's arms. Oven mitts could only conceal so much; he could still spot scratches, bruises and even the mark of a burn on Prompto's left arm. He already guarded the bandana on his right arm with his life, which made digging into the other damage even more interesting. _Ifrit_ wouldn't have a chance in taking off the bandana. What _else_ was the new baker hiding?

"Gladio! Hey, big guy!"

That familiar, cheerful voice tore Iris' brother out of his thoughts. Prompto had spotted him, but wasn't at all aware of Noct's trainer eyeing the cracks he fought to keep hidden. "What 'cha up to? Can't wait for my cookies, huh?" he asked, voice coming out as a winter song, bright and effervescent. Gladio opened his mouth to answer, but was silenced by a proud, beaming photographer holding out a cookie tray.

"Ta da! Pretty sweet, huh?"

Saying they were anything less wouldn't have been any different from committing treason against the Astrals. But it's not like complimenting them would've been a lie; they were impeccably done, beautifully crafted into the shapes of trees and (of course) chocobos. The baker looked as if he had just constructed the most amazing monument of King Regis, bubbling with pride.

"All these babies need is frosting and they'll be all good to go! Made them all by myself. Can't give ya any yet, though. Hafta wait for 'em to cool off, then-"

Gladio's voice was warm apple cider, drifting through the calm air. "The frosting, I know," he said, seizing the tray from Prompto's hands (without mitts) and sitting it on the stove. "Why don't you let me take care of it? You've done enough."

The frown on his friend's face would've broken a daemon's heart. "Whaaat? But they still need _frosting._ I can do it, no sweat! I've come this far, why stop now? Besides, I've watched Ignis frost things _plenty_ of times. Won't be too hard, right? Unless you think I'd-"

Gladio's voice became stern yet remained as soft, as gentle and warm as the scents floating through the air. "Don't put words in my mouth, little bird. Here's what I think. I think _you_ need to sit down for a minute. Just for a minute. Sixty seconds, and we'll take it from there."

"But-"

"You can talk all you want while you're sitting, Prompto. But you need to sit."

"But they're almost done co-"

" _Sit,"_ Iris' brother demanded, setting his hands on the gunslinger's shoulders and forcing him into the nearest chair. Eyes of amber pierced eyes of the sky, infinitely strong yet warm.

"I'll do the frosting. Your job is to sit. Just sit. Talk yourself into a coma, I don't care. Just sit."

Prompto still had on the frown that would've won him a thousand kingdoms. King Regis would've had Gladiolus arrested for sinking the gunner's boat. "You really think I'd mess 'em up that badly, huh?"

"Not at all what I said, kid," Iris' brother replied, his voice a gentle growl. He found himself momentarily at a loss, hovering over a tray of lovingly made cookies without a second of previous baking experience. But it was just the frosting that needed to be done. Would be just like coloring in a book. Having colored with tiny Iris plenty of times, Gladiolus took up arms. Meanwhile-

"Can't I-"

Gladio gave him a look akin to a sword piercing the earth. "No. And for the record, I think you would've done a hell of a job icing these babies. You made them, why wouldn't you take care of 'em? It's just that you need to take a time out, little bird. You've gone through enough trouble setting up this whole damn party, not to mention everything else you've been through this week. How long did it take you to make these?" he asked, the question coming from the scars and bruises on Prompto's hands.

The photographer rubbed his chin, submerging himself in thought with a long 'um'. "Wasn't long at all, really," he replied, spirit dropping, energy sinking, approaching an answer he didn't really want to give. "Just took me a few hours."

The team's big bear chuckled, but the sound was completely devoid of humor. "Cute. Try again."

Prompto sighed, resigning himself to defeat. "Fine, all night, but it wasn't that big of a deal!"

"The burns on your hands say otherwise."

"So I forgot my mitts a couple of times. Lemme alone, okay?"

"A couple of times, huh?" Gladio pushed, working his magic with the yellow frosting. One chocobo down, just a few more to go. It wasn't like he didn't have a reference point; all he had to do was look at the bird sitting in the chair. "So what, you spent all night perfecting your recipe? Explains why your floor's almost as white as snow."

"Can I help?"

"No. You've got twenty seconds to go. Keep it up and you'll be stuck with _more_ time."

A whimper followed that demand. "You're worse than Iggy. Speaking of our princess, you think he and Noct are okay?"

"They've always been okay. Always will be. It's just that they're so damn stubborn sometimes, makes it impossible for either one of 'em to see an inch in front of their noses. What color do you want for the birds' beaks?"

Prompto replied as though he had just discovered an ancient civilization. "I was thinking some would have red, and the others would have green. You know, Christmas chocobos! Gladio?"

"Yeah?"

Nervousness settled over every one of the new baker's syllables. It was astounding, how Prompto could leap from cheer to panic, from merriment to sadness, in the blink of an eye.

"You think they'll be okay? The cookies, I mean. You think Ignis will like them?"

The cookies falling even a millimeter short of Ignis' approval would break him. If Noct's advisor even uttered the word 'well' while tasting one, the gentlest heart would be broken. Not that the strategist would even think of harming a hair on Prompto's head, so no worries there. And Gladio assured him of his success, as gentle as the snow gracing Eos.

"There's nothing to think. I _know_ the princess will love 'em. And by the way, your time's up. Wanna help me out over here?"

Looking as if he had just been freed from Eos' darkest dungeon, Prompto leapt to his feet and scurried to his friend's side. He threw Gladio a glowing, musical smile, one radiant with the words 'thank you', then surveyed the scene. Something different about his world was instantly discovered, though, eclipsing the sugar cookies, the lights, the tranquil scents dancing through the air of his home. Staggering dizziness belted him as though a brick had just been cast at his head, coming from the delicate, small distance between himself and Gladiolus. The scents of earth, pure, clean, magical assaulted him, joining hands with the essence of fire and amber. Cinnamon. Sky.

Security.

Everything became blurry, strange, too heavy to bear. Prompto's legs crumbled underneath him. Warm, gentle, strong arms prevented him from crumbling to the floor. And it was in a heartbeat two sets of eyes met, one from the earth, the other from the sky.

Apologies were unintelligible dribble falling from the gunslinger's mouth. He tried to stand up, tried to explain away the weariness searing his bones, tried to make everything right all by himself, but words failed him. Strength slipped away as quickly as Eos' waters flowed through the whirlwind of time.

Gladiolus was all Prompto knew before he disappeared, slipping not into the usual piercing darkness, but into something different. Something new, comforting, patient.

Warm.

"I've got you, little bird. I'm here."

* * *

Noctis held out his palms in surrender, not wanting there to be any more bloodshed.

"You know, if you'd just take a chill pill, everything would be fine. We'd all get along. Everything would be hunky dory. But you're too stuck on being a _jackass_ to see an inch in front of your glasses."

Ignis folded his arms, forever the picture of calm wisdom. "My refusal to ice skate should not mar your enjoyment of this festive time, Highness," he retaliated, not at all attempting to mask aggravation. "I can do quite a few things rather well, thank you very much. Ice skating, unfortunately, is not on that list."

The Crown Prince of Lucis sighed, rolling his eyes. "We're going to Altissia later. There's going to an ice rink. How can you _not_ ice skate?"

"Forgive me, but I'd rather not participate in a task that will have me falling flat on my face, Noct."

Noctis folded his arms with a smile, halfway between triumphant and thoroughly incensed, remembering wounds that had just been made not too long ago.

"But you'd rather have a monster cut the pretty little head clean off your shoulders? For the sake of your job? Makes perfect sense."

"Hey. Would you lovebirds take your spat outside?"

Both instantly turned to Gladiolus and gasped, eyes drawn to bundle he was carrying bridal-style. In no more than the blink of an eye, Ignis and Noctis were at Gladio's side, faces wreathed in concern. "What happened?" Princess Scientia demanded, alongside Noctis' frantic 'what did you do to him, Gladio?'.

Iris' brother had a face made of iron and flame. "Didn't do a damn thing to 'im. Kid just fell out, and I'm not surprised. He's been pushing himself too hard lately, and not just over this party. Which he thought up, by the way, to shut you two up."

Not another word spoken between any of them, Ignis rushed into the kitchen. Noctis rushed behind his friend's couch, where bags carrying the night's luggage had been placed, and yanked a blanket right out of his own. Gladiolus settled his unconscious bundle on the couch. A warm, gently scented towel was placed on Prompto's forehead, and the blanket soon followed. In mere moments, the world turned into something that smelled of chamomile, earth, sugar and cinnamon. All different fragrances, yet unified under the same sky.

Prompto stirred a little, eyes fluttering, smile as fragile as the snow. Gladiolus' eyes met his as soon as he returned to the present, uplifting, soothing, deep.

"Did you finish the cookies?"

"Not yet, but I will," Iris' brother promised, running a hand through his friend's hair. "Don't worry. I'll make you proud."

A faint smile spread across the photographer's face. "I know. Is Ignis still alive?"

"Yeah. For the time being."

"Good. Noct can't kill him yet. He's gotta wait until tomorrow."

"I'll let him know."

"Gladio?"

"What is it, little bird?"

Prompto's next word referred to much more than him abandoning the cookies. "Sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry about. Besides, I'm finally getting what I want-for you to rest. So just rest, kid. We'll be here when you wake up."

For the first time in what must've been eons, Prompto succumbed to sleep with a smile.


End file.
